Interview With Madness
by missterio
Summary: UNFINISHED! One journalist does the unthinkable: interviewing the villains at Arkham Asylum. Unfortunately, a price is paid for such information, and this journalist is going to find out soon enough. Those villains are up to something...
1. Joker

**Title:** Interview With Madness

**Fiction Rating: **_T_ (language, some violence, mystery, and angst)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Batman, or any of the characters from that show or the comics that DC does. Batman is orginally created by Bob Kane.

**Author's Note: **This story is based on the (2004) Kids WB series, _The Batman_. This is also about a reporter (I made up) who interviews with certain Arkham Asylum patients, and even meets the Dark Knight himself. _To me_, this chapter seemed a little boring, but things do get more interesting as the chapters go on. Well, I hope you enjoy, and please read and review! I've been wanting to do a story like this for a long time, so reviews are greatly appreciated.

Also, the interviews are based on information I read/found in _The Batman Strikes_ comics, the wikipedia website, _The Batman_ tv show, and -- well, interpretations of how I think a character will act or how he/she will respond to questions.**

* * *

**

**Chapter One: Joker**

_Most tales you hear start off lightly; telling you about the hero and his little problem, and what he wants to do to make it better. You happily read the adventure, because you want to know what's going to happen to the hero -- right? You _want _to hear how his tale is going to end -- how he's going to win the heart of a seemingly beautiful girl, and defeat the lame villain. Is that what you're looking for here? Is it? Well...you're reading the wrong story kids, because that's not MY story._

_I'm no hero -- really. How can I be, I'm just...me. I never done anything that's worth mentioning, all except for the stories I do. Although...I think I, how the people say, 'stretch the truth' from time to time. I can't help it. People _want _to look at something that's worth reading, you know. Who wants to read a boring story? No one, that's who._

_Just so you know, if you think a story about a twenty-nine year old journalist interviewing insane criminals, is interesting, then please, keep reading. Keep...reading...

* * *

_

Roxanne Nevers briskly entered the doors of Arkham Asylum; striding down the halls with a small briefcase intact. She knew exactly where to go, after all, she's been here many times for her stories and such. Stories about the fallen villains of insanity being brought here, but for her, it is so difficult to get a word out of them. Every time she would try for an interview, the doctors would usually turn her down. "They're mentally ill, Ms. Nevers," the doctors would say to her, "Therefore, they have many different perspectives of the situation, and more than half of what they say is false." _"You wouldn't want to print a false story, would you, Ms. Nevers?..." _The thoughts of the doctors words went through Roxanne's head, and once, she actually stopped to think about this. More than half her life thus far has been spent on making stories, from the truth to what could partially be true. Unfortunately, she wasn't the type to usually care if a story was true or not. If her editors thought it was exceptional, than it's fine with her. Roxanne didn't care if the public was to criticize. "They don't write a paper," she had told herself once.

One day, Roxanne couldn't believe her ears when she heard that she was about to get a big break in her career. "If you do this, Roxanne," a friendly coworker had once told her, "This could get you promoted to editor in chief!" _"After all..." _She thought slyly, smirking slightly, _"That bastard is finally retiring..."_

Her big break, this is it. "You want me to interview those whack-jobs at Arkham?" Roxanne asked, not sounding happy about this.

Her editor in chief, Robert Vaan, nodded while hands were folded neatly on his desk. "Yes, Nevers, is there a problem with that?" He wondered, his voice rising with slight frustration.

Roxanne put her hands on her hips and swayed to the side slowly. "It's just, why me? Why am I doing this?"

"Because you're one of the toughest journalists I know," Robert answered proudly, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the desk now. "If you do this, it'll be the biggest story to hit the papers since the discovery of that bat freak."

"_Batman_..." Roxanne mumbled under her breath, but then she cleared her throat as her boss raised an eyebrow. She sighed and crossed her arms. "This isn't going to be easy, you know? I hear rumors that those loons do not liked to be interviewed by us. Those -- _freaks_, they-they spit on our shoes just by the sight of us. That's how much the insane hate reporters."

Robert chuckled lightly. "But you're a _journalist_," he reminded her. "And this isn't your average report. You're going to interview the infamous asylum patients. I'll give you a list of who you'll be recording the words of. I already gave word to the doctors there about your appointments..."

Roxanne suddenly became more intent on the conversation. "Appointments?"

Again, Robert nodded, "Yes, I've already made a schedule of the days you'll be going up there. The times are also on the list I'm about to give you..."

Roxanne rolled her eyes and moved closer to the desk. "Can I have that list now, _please_?" She asked impatiently, and tired of him mentioning it. Robert frowned at her, but went into his desk and took out a small piece of paper. Looking it over carefully to make sure everything was correct, he then handed it to Roxanne, who snatched it rudely from his hands.

As the woman began to walk out of her boss's office, she heard Robert grumble quietly, "Maybe those interviews will change that attitude of yours..."

Of course...that was then...and this is now. As she approached the cell she was appointed to visit, she withdrew the list Robert had given her, and made sure this was the right number. "223..." she muttered, and sure enough, as Roxanne examined the heavy, metal door, there were small brass numbers of 223. Upon taking a step back from the door, she took quick glances at the two guards who happened to be standing on either side of it. Roxanne sighed, she knew why these guards were here. In a way, she felt a bit more relieved to have them. She knew..._why_. After all, this insane criminal is reported (also by herself truly) to be the worst of all the bad lot in Gotham City! "Joker..." she whispered to herself, wanting to know what it felt like to say his name.

Just as she was about to enter, one guard stopped her. "Be careful in there, Ms. Nevers," he warned her. "We may be watching your back from out here, but who knows what that clown can do. He is very unpredictable at times."

Roxanne took a moment to take it all in. "I know," she replied, and opened the heavy door slowly...and entered.

As Joker felt the presence of someone enter his room, a most menacing smile appeared on his chalk-white face. Even though he never showed it, but he hated this -- yes, he hated this dearly. If he could, he would untangle himself from the straight jacket, and use it to strangle that annoying journalist woman. Yes...that's what he wanted to do...but couldn't. So, the clown prince just remained seated on a wooden chair that was provided for him, just until the interview was over. When the woman journalist sat down in her own seat across from Joker, the clown couldn't help but examine her from head to toe. To him, she was somewhat tall and rather slender. She was pretty fair in her looks, and the way her short blonde hair flipped to the side; to cover her left eye, the journalist appeared to be mysterious in some ways. Although, when Joker peered into her eyes, a disgusted look came to him. "Brown eyes -- _yuck_!" Was the first, insulting sentence that came out of Joker's mouth.

The journalist, Roxanne, set her briefcase down neatly beside her. Taking out a notepad and a pen from her black suit pocket, she jotted down her first few notes about the interview. "Thank you for the rather _insulting _comment," she exclaimed dully, trying to act as if the insult didn't bother her. Deep inside though, it did, but Roxanne was very careful not to show it.

Joker squirmed around in his chair and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't like you, ya know."

Without looking up from her notepad, Roxanne replied back, "So I've heard."

"Hmph." Joker leaned forward a bit to see what his interviewer was jotting down. "What are you writing anyways?"

"What you're doing right now, and what you already said to me just recently," Roxanne answered quickly. What the woman didn't mention to her study, was the fact that she was writing about him; his appearance. _This 'Clown Prince of Crime' or so he has been called -- this Joker, with a face flushed as you would see a vampire's. Hair so wild and green, you would think he was Tarzan himself! Hasn't he ever thought of trimming those green dreadlocks for hair? His eyes are evil and red as the rose, with piercing yellow pupils that feel as if they could burn through your soul. Of course, how can anyone avoid the clown's trademarked, red-lipped grin; with horrible, jagged yellow teeth beneath his lips. It perplexes me why Joker has neglected the care for his dental. The people of Gotham have seen him in many costumes, but as far as I have seen and heard, his favorite choice seems to be that of the purple tailcoat with thick sleeves; leather pants that cling to his skin so greatly, it makes you wonder how his movements are still so agile. The Joker never wears shoes, but as I can recall on my memories, I seem to remember a time where he stole a pair prototype footwear that were supposed to help construction workers with high places. Unfortunately, the idea never came alive as the Gothamites have witnessed what a criminal can do with them._

"Tell me, Joker," Roxanne began, crossing a leg to make herself more comfortable. "Tell me why you do such horrible and psychotic schemes? What gave you the motivation?"

A small smile appeared on the edge of Joker's ruby-red lips. "One question at a time, lady. First off, what's _your_ name?" He grinned as Roxanne lifted her eyes off the notepad and starred back at him.

"I would of thought you known already," said Roxanne coolly. "My name is Roxanne Nevers, the journalist whom is interviewing you."

"Hmm..." Joker's eyes wandered to the ceiling as he thought on this. His red orbs came back to Roxanne's level, and blurted out happily, "I like Roxi better -- yeah. I think I'll call you Miss Roxi."

Roxanne scoffed. She was not amused by this. "I prefer you addressed me as _Ms_. Nevers, if you don't mind," she declared, becoming irritable now.

"Nah!" Said the Joker, shaking his head, "I like Roxi better! Miss Roxi, Miss Roxi, Miss Roxi!" As he began to cackle loudly, Roxanne had to cover her ears for fear that her eardrums might burst.

"Please, can we get on with the interview?" Roxanne asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Like Roxanne, Joker scoffed and crossed his leg as well, "Okay then...Miss Roxi..." A toothy smile formed on his pale face as Roxanne frowned.

"Fine, call me whatever the hell you want," Roxanne mumbled, but cleared her throat as she questioned, "I'll ask what I have wanted to know before: what gave you the motivation to do the sick crimes that you do?" She held a pen close to her notepad as she was prepared to write as soon as Joker spoke.

Joker had to laugh in his throat about that one. What gave him the motivation for doing this? Well... "Heh, heh, well Miss Roxi, just about _everyone_ in Gotham gives me motivation!" He answered in a giddy attitude. "I guess what really got me going was a show on TV I've watched since I was just a little jester..." Joker paused for a moment, thinking. Roxanne waited quietly for him to continue. The clown rocked in his chair excitedly as he went on, "_The Whipperdoodle Pie Man_, starring my favorite guy: Simon Syke! _Oh_, that guy cracks me up on that show! Throwing pies at his costars, planting whoopee cushions for guests at restaurants! I bought everything he sold to the people, from stink bombs to fake barf!" Roxanne was surprised when a few tears rolled down Joker's cheeks, but unfortunately for him, his arms and hands were bounded, and thus, couldn't wipe them away. "Ooohh, ever since I watched that show, I knew I found my life's calling..."

Roxanne tapped her pen on the edge of her notepad. "Simon Syke..." she tried to remember, "Yeah, I remember him. I did a report on him when he was hauled off to prison for larceny--"

"And embezzlement!" Joker added proudly, nodding to her statement. "Yes, I know, isn't he just swell?"

"Um..." Roxanne's eyes wandered when they finally set on her notepad once more, "Yeah, he's swell -- now the next question."

Joker groaned, "Oh, _another_ question now, Miss Roxi?"

Roxanne raised an eyebrow. "I only asked you one question so far," she reminded him. "Okay...of all the gadgets and gasses you created, which one do you consider to be the deadliest?"

Joker smiled devilishly at her, "How about this: I'll break out of here, I'll come find you, tie you to a chair, and you can be my little guinea pig and see for yourself which one gives you more torture..."

Roxanne's eyes widened, and her lips parted ever so slightly. Before answering, she shuddered at the thought; Joker clenched his teeth, knowing she was thinking about his ways of maim. "Um...on second thought, we'll skip this and move on to the next question..."

"Tcht." Joker turned his head away from Roxanne, disappointed that she didn't even consider his offer.

"Your henchmen, Punch and Judy, what's the story on them? Why do they serve you so faithfully?"

"Ooooohh..._boy_..." Joker rolled his eyes and rocked a couple times in his chair. His antics were beginning to annoy Roxanne. "Even I can't remember where or _why_ they came to me. Just one day -- while I was gassing those cops at the station, there they were; clowns and all!"

As Roxanne quickly wrote down Joker's words, she spoke in a suspicious manner, "I have a feeling you're holding out on this question. You know _where_ they came from, and _why_ their your goons. What's the scoop on them?"

Joker shrugged a shoulder, "What makes you think I'm holding out? I'm telling the truth here."

Roxanne almost wanted to laugh at that one. "Sure you do, like the first time the police arrested you for trying to gas the whole city with your hot air balloon. Your excuse for arrest was that the cops were racists to clowns..."

Joker gently nodded his head, "They _are_ against clowns!"

"That's not the reason why they took you to Arkham..." Roxanne sighed though, "Fine, let's move on to the next question then... Tell me, Joker, have you ever been in love before? Married at all?"

Joker sat back in his chair, as if he was somehow trying to get away from Roxanne. In love? Even if he ever was in love or married, he sure wasn't going to tell some nosy journalist about it. Not no way or no how. "Can I snatch this pen for a moment?..." He asked innocently, and before Roxanne knew it, Joker extended his foot, and with his flexible toes, he gently took the pen she was writing with. "Now, tear a piece of that paper for your Uncle Joker, and put it by my feet..."

Roxanne groaned, but did as he wanted, and she tore a blank page from her notepad and set it close to Joker's feet. Joker squealed with joy as he started to scribble all over the paper, using his toes to hold the pen as if they were hands. When he happened to be done, he once again, extended his leg and gave the pen back to Roxanne. She looked at the scrawled paper with some disgust. "What is this supposed to be?" She asked rudely.

Snickering, Joker replied, "This is what you would like if I wasn't in this jacket right now..."

Roxanne put a hand to her head. She was getting too impatient with the Joker. _"He's hardly answered my questions!" _She screamed in her mind. _"Why does that clown keep doing this? Is he...doing this on purpose?" _Then, Roxanne straightened herself out and appeared ready to take down notes again. "I can see that you will not share your 'juicy' information with me, so I'll look and see if there's a question that you _will_ answer..."

"Roxi starts with an 'r'," The Joker stated, deciding to share his thoughts with her. "Did you know your name starts with an 'r', Miss _Roxi_?..."

Roxanne smirked at him, "Yes, I know how to spell my name."

"Are you sure?" The Joker squeaked, his voice rising to a high-pitch. "You seem the type to forget how to spell..." Giggling, he repeated, "Roxi starts with an 'r'."

"Please, Joker, can we focus on my questions?" She asked exasperatedly. Joker thought for a moment, but then nodded. "Good, let's carry on then. Next question: how do you repeatedly escape from this facility? How do you manage to get out of Arkham Asylum?"

"Ah, such a good question, pretty Miss Roxi, but unlucky for you, I won't tell." As Joker spoke these words, Roxanne took her eyes off the notepad and now looked at him. A gasp wanted to come out from her throat, but she managed to hold it in. "I guess you can say that the flunkies here are just so lazy all the time, and besides that, they're weak. Just how can those guys hold up in a fight? I mean -- really!" He uncrossed his leg and began rocking in his chair again. "What else you got for me?"

"Well..." Roxanne flipped through pages of her notepad until she found what she was looking for. "What do you hate most about the Dark Knight -- Batman, I mean?"

Joker growled. _Batman_...how he despised and detested that horrible name. He can almost hear it screaming in his head; going in one ear and coming out the other. Batman! Batman! Batman, Batman, Batman, Batman, Batman, BATMAN! "I just plain, flat-out, _hate_ that Batsy!" Joker hollered. "_Ugh_, what's with that guy anyways? He just can't seem to take a joke! Like that time I hooked up a bomb under his lame car, and the Bat goes and diffuses it! What's up with that?" He flipped his head, tossing some of that dreadlock hair behind him. "What does Batsy have against comedy, anyways? You can take a joke or two, can't you, Miss Roxi?..."

"As long as it doesn't involve anyone getting hurt," Roxanne responded. "Why do you feel hurting people is a joke?"

Joker opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He actually never thought of that question. Why did he think hurting people was funny? Maybe he does these things because of the hurt he endured as a child...wait -- what? "Um...I think I'll answer the next question," he said softly, somewhat nervously.

"Hmm...very well," Roxanne replied, knowing that somehow the previous question uprooted his inner thoughts.

Suddenly, Roxanne jumped in her chair as one of the guards knocked on the heavy metal door. "Wrap it up, Ms. Nevers," the guard told her, "Your time is almost up."

"What?..." Roxanne glanced at her watch and mumbled under her breath, "Damn it!"

"Awwwwhh..." Joker cooed, pouting his lip out as if he felt sorry for Roxanne. "Does Miss Roxi have to go already? Hee, hee..."

As the guards came in to escort Roxanne out of the cell and out of the asylum complex, she stood up and flipped a page in her notepad. "Joker, I just have one question to ask you; a question that I know everyone in Gotham would want to read about..." Joker eyed the journalist oddly. "Who are you? What is your _real_ name?..."

Joker breathed in and out heavily, thinking hard about the question. To be honest, even though he would never say, but he's not quite sure who he is anymore. Just what was his name back then? Did he even have a name? He must of...but Joker can't recall on it. "Now Miss Roxi..." The Joker spoke in a sarcastic way, "The best part about me is that I like to think my life has multiple choices. Meaning, I can be whoever I want, _wheneve_r I want. Now and forever, I'm Joker..." He leaned in towards Roxanne's direction to say quietly, "That _is_ my real name..."

Roxanne let out a soft sigh, and scribbled something quickly in her notepad. "Fine then, have it your way," she grumbled, taking up her sleek briefcase, she walked out the metal door one of the guards opened for her. Just after she exited Joker's room, the guards came out after, shutting the door behind them and securing it once more.

"Bye-bye, Roxi!" Joker yelled in a falsetto voice. Roxanne groaned, even though she was happy to finally be out of there, but still, she didn't get all the information she wanted from that insane clown.

"Hope you got everything you came here for," said a guard.

Roxanne quickly stashed her notes in her briefcase. "Most of it," she replied depressingly, and followed another guard down the dingy halls and out of Arkham Asylum. _"Just what does that clown and others have against journalists?" _She thought. _"Actually...why did Joker and them agree to do these interviews? They usually turn down anyone...but why now? Is it me, or are they planning something?"_


	2. Penguin

**Author's Note: **I know it's been a little while since the last chapter, but I had other stories/chapters to type, and I wanted to be sure -- with this chapter -- that I got the feel for Penguin's character; he was actually a bit trickier to do than Joker. Well, I hope this story is starting to get more interesting... Enjoy reading!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Two: Penguin**

Roxanne Nevers yawned. Her body ached, and overall, felt completely exhausted. If she could turn the hands of time back, she would change her answer of doing these interviews. She hated putting all of her time into these writings. It also made her feel ill when she confronted the Arkham Asylum patients. What horrible characters they are. She would love to know why they do such horrendous things. She wanted to sleep in longer, but knew her work had to come first.

A week after she had interviewed Joker, her schedule was set to talk with Harley Quinn, formerly known as Harleen Quinzell. Harley used to be a very popular TV psychiatrist; specializing in relationships or just plummeting them further. Due to the lack of ratings and increasing complaints, her show was cancelled, and thus, Harley was out of the job. Joker saw this as an opportunity to make her his henchgirl, seeing the young woman would be vulnerable enough to do so. Unfortunately, as Roxanne was escorted into Harley's cell to interview the lovesick girl, Harley saw the older woman and threw quite a tantrum that almost involved Roxanne getting seriously injured! The guards had to come in and hold Harley down, as so the doctors could give her an injection that would make her settle. "I am _not_ gonna talk to a tramp like you!" Harley spoke with such hatred in her voice. It almost made Roxanne want to laugh at her child-like attitude. "That's all Mistah J ever talks about is _you_ now! 'Oh, Miss Roxi is sssoooooo pretty! Miss Roxi is ssooooooo funny! Miss Roxi _this_! Miss Roxi _that_!' That's all he talks about, and I hate it! I hate you, you interviewing bitch!" Roxanne watched as a male doctor came in and inserted a needle into Harley's vein. A few moments went by, and Harley's angered nature toned down to appear to look like a dazed drunk. Roxanne was not all taken-aback by Harley's harsh words. She knew this sort of anger and sadness goes on in this asylum. "They're so dangerously insane anyways." She told herself.

Since the event of Harley, Roxanne had been rescheduled to interview the next Arkham Asylum patient on her list. She hoped and prayed desperately that her talks with this patient will be much more informative than Joker's and Harley's put together. _"I never got anything from that crazy girl," _Roxanne thought. _"I hope this doesn't go against me getting that promotion..."_

Then...Roxanne's alarm went off again; the little beeping sound gradually got louder and louder, becoming more annoying by the seconds. She threw a pillow over her head, trying to burry out the irritating noise. "I don't want to get up," she groaned tiredly, turning over slightly. "I hate these interviews... I can't even get enough sleep for myself..." She sat up in her bed and sighed, "I hope it doesn't show when I go to Arkham again..." Eventually as the early morning went by, Roxanne finally shut off her alarm clock and got out of bed. She did her usually morning schedule: eat cereal, take a shower, get dressed, and do her hair and makeup. As she finished applying her lipstick, she took a good look at herself in the mirror. She cocked her head ever so slightly as her eyes focused on the boyishly short hair. Roxanne ran a hand over her head and said quietly to herself, "Maybe I should grow my hair out this time..." Of course, for her usual trademarked look, she flipped some of her hair over her eye as so she could appear to look mysterious to others. She gathered her notes, a notepad, a pen, and a few other essential items to put in her briefcase. "I'm ready..." she declared softly, and walked out of her apartment door.

It was a long way from her apartment complex to Arkham Asylum, and although she could go on forever about high gas prices, she had to do her job as a journalist. _"Go in and get that interview over with, and maybe this time, I can get to bed early enough..."_ As soon as Roxanne entered the asylum, she was greeted by a few guards that smiled briefly at her. "You Ms. Roxanne Nevers?" One of them asked her. She nodded. "Follow us..." Roxanne obliged quietly on following the guards, keeping to herself as she, again, gazed at the interior of the asylum. _"They could sure use a decorator. Why is this place so...depressing?" _She knew she couldn't fuss about this; after all, at least this next patient might be more 'pleasant' than the last two. Before Roxanne knew it, the guards and herself were already in front of the cell that contained the insane. "We're here," the guard said, and opened the door courteously for the journalist.

"Thank-you," said Roxanne politely, and entered the cell with a guard shutting the door behind her. Like her interview with Joker, there were two chairs in the room: one for Roxanne to sit in, and the other for the patient. Instead of Joker sitting opposite from her...there was Penguin. She finally noticed that his somewhat beady eyes were fixated on her, and it sent a slight shiver down her spine. Roxanne didn't know if he was trying to intimidate her or not. Trying as hard as she could to hide her exhaustion and nervousness from Penguin, she seated herself on the free chair, and set her briefcase down beside it.

"So...you're that journalist Joker keeps talking about, huh?" Penguin asked somewhat curiously.

While taking a notepad and pen from her briefcase, Roxanne replied, "Yes, I'm the one who interviewed the Joker." She looked at Penguin now, "I didn't know I was beginning to become popular around here."

Penguin shrugged, "Well, not to that Harley girl."

Roxanne nodded, "Yes...especially her..."

_Unlike the insane criminals such as Joker or even Mr. Freeze, the Penguin has been considered more of a criminal of 'style and class'. When out of Arkham and on the Gotham streets, people would see this deformed man wearing formal wear, which consists him having a rather long, top hat, a tuxedo, and pinstriped pants. It's not his class of crimes that have the citizens or the doctors baffled, but rather his odd deformity. I am assuming he took up the name 'Penguin' because of his bird-like appearance. His long, crooked nose that stretches far out; you would think others would tease him as Pinocchio rather than a penguin. His hands...instead of five fingers (or four fingers and a thumb) Penguin has fins very similar to the bird itself! It makes me wonder why he doesn't prefer to wear gloves. Ah yes, I almost forgot about the monocle on his right eyes...why does he wear it? I have asked about this, and the doctors confirm that his eyesight is perfectly fine in both eyes. I guess this is another trait of style to his criminal acts. From what I have seen and heard, his favorite choice for a weapon is that of an umbrella. Of course, this isn't just any old item used on bad weather, Penguin's umbrella(s) have many functions, which includes it opening up and protruding helicopter-like blades to be used for flight. Unlike Joker, whom his schemes revolve around jester like things, Penguin's crimes mainly involve birds of different kinds. Is this because of the name and his deformity?_

Roxanne could see, instead of being bounded in the upper torso like Joker, Penguin was hand cuffed, which she knew he was considered less of a threat than the crazy clown. The woman crossed her ankles and examined the questions on her notepad that she would ask Penguin. "Well, to start off, Mr. Penguin--"

Penguin chuckled softly, "Please, just call me Ozzy. Everyone else around here does."

Roxanne raised an eyebrow, "That was somewhat...one of my questions, but I thought the patients mostly call you by your 'alter ego' name?"

Penguin scoffed, "That's because I didn't bother telling my real name to the others. Such low-class patients don't deserve to know it."

"Then, if I may ask, what is your real name?" Roxanne asked, and waited eagerly for his answer.

Penguin wanted to bow in a friendly gesture, as one would do when greeting someone in a formal way, but couldn't, being handcuffed and all. "My real name is Oswald C. Cobblepot..." He watched as Roxanne wrote in her notepad. Smirking ever so slight, he added, "Don't forget the o's in Oswald _or_ Cobblepot!"

Roxanne growled softly, "I know there are o's in your name..." As she finished writing, she wondered out loud, "What does the C. mean?"

Penguin glared at her, "You're lucky enough to know my real name. Like the rest of the people, you don't have _class_ or _style_ to know what the C. means..." Roxanne was a bit surprised by Penguin's answer. Not enough class? Style? Why was this man so obsessed with these things?

"Very well then, let's move on to the next question..." Roxanne flipped a page in her notepad and scanned its contents. Because there was a certain time limit to these chats, she thought of asking the best, or most important questions first. "Tell me what your former life was like. You can say anything you want about it, but keep it with the past...and not the present."

Penguin sighed heavily. Thinking hard. His past life? He actually hasn't thought on that for the longest time. What was his past life like? How come he wanted to burry it inside himself? He knew it must of been a horrible experience for him...but now he wants to know why that is. "The Cobblepot family were a very wealthy people. We could buy anything we wanted. _Anything_..." Roxanne nodded her head as a gesture that she was getting all of this down. "Our family lived amongst the rich in England; even before I was born. Of course though...I wasn't the child they expected to have..." He grumbled the last part lowly

"Your...um, your 'birth defect'?" Was the only way Roxanne could put it nicely in words.

Penguin did not give any gestures of agreement. Now he remembered why he blocked these memories out... "Yeah..._that_..." he muttered depressingly, but still continued on, "My parents took me to the finest doctors all over the world, but all of them said I was a 'lost cause'; I could...never look like a 'normal' human being... I was constantly teased at primary school for my appearance. If I had a nickel for all the times those kids called me names and threw rocks at me, I would be richer than that Wayne guy!" He gave out wheezed cackles, which sounded distinctively like an old crow of some sort. It's as if he was laughing away his horrible childhood. He pretended to not care, but Roxanne could tell it still hurt. "I also remember mother having her own pet shop -- yeah, she _did_ have a pet shop. I would visit the place everyday after school. Probably the reason why birds catch my eye all the time... Anyways, I had a favorite parrot there; named him Vic, after the old, family dog." A smile formed on his rather pudgy face, but it quickly subsided as he started to remember...other things. "Then...one day, when I went to the pet shop...all the animals...the animals were..." Roxanne's eyes widened as she saw a single tear come forth and run down Penguin's face. "...dead..."

Roxanne gasped ever so softly. She put a hand over her mouth; horrified to hear this. "How did...how did the animals die?..." She questioned quietly, fearing the answer.

Penguin seemed appalled at the moment, for he didn't respond. Roxanne watched as he starred past her, and onto his cell door. She knew he was in some horrific shock from his past, and hopped he would get out of it soon. Suddenly, his mind snapped back to reality, and he recalled on her question. "I, uh...I don't want to talk about this anymore..." the tone in his voice suggested that he was very depressed at this point, and Roxanne knew she had better find a question that would get his mind off his former life.

"Alright then, I understand. Onto the next question then: I know everyone by now has noticed you prefer an umbrella as a choice for a weapon. Why is that? Why do you always carry around an umbrella? Have you always found umbrellas fascinating?" Roxanne wrote a few words, and then gazed back at Penguin for a reply.

Penguin scratched his cheek; a horrible itch had suddenly come over. Of course, Roxanne waited patiently until he was ready to answer. "Ever since I was a kid, my mother always made me carry an umbrella around; even on good weather! She was _very_ overprotective of me. It was annoying most of the time. You know how mothers can get."

Roxanne smirked, "Was there any reason why your mother made you carry an umbrella, or was she -- in fact -- just paranoid of your safety and health?"

Penguin shrugged, "When I was a little kid, father died of pneumonia. Mother said he went out while in a downpour. Died later. That's why she always made me carry an umbrella from then on. Didn't want me to end up like the father." He cackled softly, and this made Roxanne wonder why.

Roxanne tapped her pen on the top of the notepad. "I have to say, _Ozzy_, you're a lot more cooperative than Joker and Harley. Is there a reason why your so behaved and the others are not?" She knew it wasn't a question on the list, but she just wanted to know personally.

Penguin laughed, "Waugh, waugh, waugh!" Roxanne held in her own fits of laughter, for she didn't want to be disrespectful of his odd sounds. "That screw-loose and his girl are an odd pair. Joker rarely talks about himself, you know. Doesn't care about fame, like I do. Yeah, fame and fortune are the things I live for. It's his loss he doesn't want it."

The journalist nodded in agreement, "Yes, you're most certainly right about that. Okay, next question: your umbrella, I know it serves the function for flight, but what else can your unusual weapon do?" She watched as Penguin leaned back in his chair, thinking. That's the thing he adored most about his weapon: having so many purposes, for both combat and everyday tasks. He didn't know where to begin for her!

"Well," Penguin began, smiling proudly at the thought of all the hard work he put into his umbrellas. "For starters, it carries many types of knives used for cutting; people and the likes..." He grinned evilly as Roxanne's eyes widened to him. "I also had a gun installed, but somehow, it doesn't shoot! That made me mad. Let's see...what else is there -- oh yes, the handle of my umbrella can pop up and extend, becoming an electrified chain. Oh, the Bat and I sure had a fun time with that! Waugh, waugh!"

Roxanne quickly wrote down the information. "Good, good, so...how are the weapons made into the umbrella?"

Penguin's scratchy laughter stopped abruptly, "Wouldn't _you_ like to know, _journalist_? I can never give away my superb genius to the likes of a nosy woman." He glared at her while Roxanne did the same. Oh, how she _hated_ to be called that: nosy. Yes, she could be nosy from time to time, but that was, what people call, a major 'pet peeve' for her. Wanting to appear as professional as possible, she held in her annoyance on that word.

"Fine then, you don't have to tell. You have told more than I thought you ever would," Roxanne replied, as if she didn't care about being called nosy. "Now, these next questions are about your henchgirls, the 'Kabuki twins', is what the public seems to call them."

Penguin raised an eyebrow at her, "'Kabuki twins'? Huh, never heard _that_ one before. I'm guessing the name started from that bat freak. They have _real_ names, you know..."

Roxanne blinked, "Oh, and what are their names, so that I may clarify to the Gotham people who they really are."

Penguin scratched his cheek again. That itch came back. Why is it there anyways? Sometimes, he would like to know where nuisances like that originate from. "Their names are Peri and Gale. Couldn't tell you which one's which, because they're _twins_; they look exactly the same. Dressed the same, too."

Roxanne wrote the Kabuki twins' names in her notepad. "Peri and Gale, huh?" She wondered, curious to know if Penguin was telling the truth or not. "So, did you name them, or is that their birth names?"

"Uh..." Penguin thought, and shrugged, "They came with those names. Who knows if that's their real names or not. I couldn't care less, but that's what their parents told me." He leaned in and cupped his mouth, as if trying to keep his words from anyone else hearing but Roxanne. "You probably already know, but their mutes; they can't speak. I think they were born that way...but, their parents didn't say much..." Roxanne didn't know why he whispered this. She guessed he wanted to sound as if he had a great secret that he only wished for her to hear.

The woman suddenly became more fascinated with this interview. Kabuki twins that actually have names, and are mutes? Oddly enough, this interested her more than the informative chat about her patient. She didn't want to say, but somehow, other cultures and its people were more intriguing than American lives. "So, do you know about their past lives, or why they decided to join you in your crimes?"

Penguin chuckled in his throat, "Don't know much about their lives, but I know why they work for me now. A long while ago, I went to one of those orient countries -- somewhere in Japan, I think. Anyways, while I was there, I met those two twin girls, Peri and Gale. They were _beautiful_ geishas then..." He sighed dreamily, which sounded a bit odd, coming from someone such as himself. Most likely recalling on their beauty at the time he met Peri and Gale. "Well, I watched them all the time when they were in theatre. Didn't do much for the singing part, but their way of dancing was so mesmerizing! And they even had umbrellas! I don't know any man who passed up the opportunity to see those girls! Well, over my stay in Japan, the girls' family ran into a bit of trouble with the Yakuza; you heard of those guys, right?" Roxanne nodded. "Good, so, I reasoned with those brainless duds with my own monetary wealth--"

"Wait, before your years of crime, I heard rumors that your 'wealth' plummeted," stated Roxanne.

Penguin swayed his head from side to side. Even though he knew it was true, but gesturing as if he had heard something like that before. "Yes, yes, that's right."

"So, how did you pay the Yakuza off?"

Penguin scoffed, "Didn't you hear about my robberies up there, _before _I came to Gotham and started up my crimes again?"

Roxanne averted her eyes from Penguin's, thinking. She was trying to recollect on articles and such she read that she found interesting, but alas, she couldn't recall on the robberies in Japan. "Sorry," she apologized in an uncaring way, "I can't read oriental handwritings..." Penguin laughed, but she didn't find it amusing.

"Ah, well, you didn't seem the type to read about the orient anyways, but you also don't look smart enough to remember the o's in my names!"

Roxanne growled, "Please, let's get back to the story of your henchgirls, Peri and Gale."

Penguin rolled his eyes, "Oh, alright..." He replied sarcastically, "So, I used the money I made in my 'bird robberies' to pay off the Yakuza. I guess the family was in debt to them or something, but I don't know and I don't care. Anyways, I made the family a deal: if I was to help keep the Yakuza away for good, I get their daughters...Peri and Gale, the two beautiful Kabuki twins, and mutes to boot!"

Roxanne's eyes boggled with amazement of this story. "How very interesting, so...their style of fight, did they learn that from you, or--"

Penguin quickly shook his head, "Nah, they already knew it before I did. Don't know who taught them, but it worked out well for me. Now they're my trusted goonies to do my bidding, and they have no choice otherwise! Their family didn't want them anymore! Waugh, har,har,har,har,har...!" He laughed manically, as if he triumphed over something, but Roxanne didn't know what.

"Well..." Roxanne sighed tiredly, and she lifted her wrist to examine the time on her watch. "I don't have a lot of time left, so I'll just ask you one more question before I go." Penguin listened in. "In some of your crimes, they're...more based around Bruce Wayne, the billionaire--"

"I know what kind of man Wayne is!" Penguin snapped angrily, exhausted to hear his name.

Roxanne shook slightly from his sudden outburst, but continued, "I want to know why you have this burning hatred for Mr. Wayne."

He could see it now: Bruce Wayne walking down the red carpet with women under his arms. And then there's poor old Penguin, standing at the edge, tattered clothes, and no one under his arms; not even Peri and Gale, the Kabuki twins! As Bruce walked past him, the young billionaire flashed his sparkling white teeth and grinned in triumph. 'I'm the guy you wish you were, huh?' Spoke Bruce pompously, as he glided past Penguin with his gorgeous women. Penguin growled furiously in his mind. "I despise that Wayne guy...and I still think that word's too good for the likes of him... He stole the fame and fortune right under my nose!"

Roxanne wanted to slide her chair away from Penguin, but she didn't want him to see that she was beginning to grow nervous of his actions. It wasn't towards her in any way, but still, she wanted to be cautious and ready for whatever came unexpectedly. She raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously. "How did Mr. Wayne steal your fame and fortune?" She wondered defensively. "His parents before him were very rich from the start. After Thomas and Martha Wayne's deaths, Bruce Wayne inherited all that they left behind. Now tell me, Ozzy, how was that any of yours?" Roxanne could literally see Penguin's face turn red with fury.

"You just don't get it, do you Nevers woman?" Penguin spat in a very scratchy voice, "My family were the wealthiest people around, and suddenly it went all down hill. Then I hear of this Wayne guy and his family fortune, and it makes me wonder how -- all of a sudden -- _he_ has all the fame and jewels! Tell me why, _Ms_. Nevers?" When Roxanne didn't answer, continuing to stare at him irritably, Penguin scoffed and crossed his arms. "He has _looks_. He has _money_. It just isn't fair..."

_"That doesn't make any sense..." _Roxanne told herself in her own thoughts. _"I am assuming Penguin is just merely jealous of Wayne." _She stood up straight and tall, and had a calm look on herself. "Well, my time here is about up, Ozzy, so I must be leaving now. Farewell, and thank-you for the chat today..." Roxanne caught a glimpse of Penguin raising a hand briefly, probably a rude way of saying his own goodbyes. She gathered her things, stuffed them in her briefcase, and knocked on the cell door to inform the guards that she is ready to leave.

Penguin had a blank look to him as he watched one of the guards open the cell door for Roxanne, and she left the insane, deformed man alone once more. When the guard closed the door, and waiting a few moments to know that everyone has left, the pudgy criminal gazed around his interior and sighed to himself somewhat sadly. "That journalist woman wasn't so bad," he said to himself, and his voice lowered a bit more menacingly, "It's a shame she's going to die..."

* * *

It was so late when Roxanne finally reached her apartment complex, that she had to lean forward in her car and squint her eyes to try and adjust to this blackness. She hated driving in the dark. For some reason, the night terrified her; probably because of all the criminal activity that happens more during this time. She had never been in a hostage or criminal situation, and she was so rejoiced that it hasn't come yet. 

When Roxanne parked her car in front of the complex, she yawned tiredly and gazed at her watch. "I _so_ need some sleep," she said drearily, and started to turn off the ignition in her vehicle. She turned around in her seat to get her briefcase and other office like material, and then she exited her car. As she reached the apartment complex doors, and fumbled around in her suit pockets for the cardkey to get in, she suddenly heard screeching of shoes along the concrete path to the complex. A soft gasp escaped her mouth as she spun around in place; her eyes darting to all visible objects around. After waiting for a minute or so, she ignored her petty scare and continued to find the cardkey. Then, she heard a noise again, but this time, it sounded as if someone dropped a metal pipe to the ground. The echoing of metal hitting the concrete caused Roxanne to jump in her heels and now was more alert than ever. Just whatever is out there? "Is someone there?" She called, her voice trembling slightly. "I have a gun and I'm afraid to use it, you know," she lied, knowing that she didn't carry a gun, but at this time, she wished she did.

Then...silence. Nothing was heard afterwards. Roxanne sighed, "It must be my own head playing tricks on me. I need some sleep badly..." A wry little smile came upon her face as she finally found her cardkey, and swiped it through the decoder so the doors will open for her. Just as she was about to open the doors, Roxanne groaned when that sound of scrapping shoes came about again. Unfortunately for this woman, she had no time to see what it was, for she immediately went unconscious from a blow to the head with a metal object. With Roxanne's body lying on the ground, the culprit took her up in his arms and carried her to his own, darkened vehicle. He loaded her into the backseat, and before anyone knew it, the culprit got into the car and drove off into the night. No one...saw it coming.


	3. Scarface

**Chapter Three: Scarface**

Roxanne Nevers felt the strangest sensation around herself; a feeling of not being in a familiar place. She didn't move, nor did she want to. She remained...still -- what the? Why did she feel so dizzy? Just what...just what happened to her? The last thing she could remember was that she just opened the apartment complex doors...then everything went black. It is so hard for herself to keep from not moving, but as her fingers flexed out ever so slightly, she could feel something against her head. What is that? What is that 'liquid' feeling?... Oh God...is that -- is that _blood_ coming from her head? _"What the hell happened to me?" _Her voice shrieked inside her dazed mind. _"Where am I? Oh God...just what is going on here?"_ She knew panicking was not the best thing to do at this time, so Roxanne tried to intake on her other senses to determine where she is. There was a rather repugnant odor in the air, but Roxanne couldn't recall where she was with this smell. She heard distant voices around her... Just how many people were there? From what she's hearing, she assumed to be at least three people. Unfortunately, she still couldn't conclude on the location of her current situation. Suddenly, her blood ran cold when she heard footsteps of people approaching her. Roxanne knew she had to keep pretending to be unconscious for a while longer; at least until she couldn't hear the sounds of anyone present. She had to think of something else until this passed. She had to drown out everything around her...and focus on her thoughts... Just what did she remember before all this?...

Roxanne could see herself in the office, sitting at the desk and typing up a rough draft of her report. She took quick glances at her watch and stretched every now and then so her muscles wouldn't stiff. The journalist was so intent on her work, that she didn't even notice one of her fellow workers walking in her space. The male came up to her desk and leaned his body against it casually. "You're _still_ working on that report?" He asked in sarcastic surprise.

Without even looking up at him, Roxanne answered back flatly, "I'm just doing my job, Nathan; and I can see you're on one of your 'breaks' again..." She rolled her eyes with fingers continuing to move about on the keyboard. "This report can get me to be editor in chief, you know. I _need_ that promotion..."

Nathan scoffed at her. He gazed around the office until his eyes fell onto a chair in front of him. Plopping himself down, and bringing himself to the desk, he watched Roxanne type away on the computer. The woman very briefly looked at the man in front of her before her attention turned back to her work. "Don't you have anything better to do -- for instance, to go bother 'sexy' women?..."

Nathan sighed, "I didn't come to your office to annoy you, Roxanne, I came because I needed to tell you something that Robert failed to mention to you before..."

The young man saw her finally take her hands away from the keyboard. "I'm listening..." said Roxanne coolly, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

Nathan nodded, "Yes, well...I'll tell you then. Our boss hasn't told you about the other three journalists that had attempted to do research as what you're doing now..." Roxanne raised an eyebrow at him curiously. The man averted his eyes away from her somewhat nervously. "Oh, what am I saying, of course you haven't heard about the incidents... Well, for starters, have you ever heard the name Megan Rouge?" Roxanne shook her head. "She-she used to be a journalist like you -- of course, and I guess 'years ago', she tried to interview insane criminals of Arkham Asylum. Although, this is before Joker and the likes came along... About halfway through Miss Rouge's interviews...the neighbors found her dead in her living room -- shot in the head twice, and one at her side..." Nathan paused to see Roxanne's reaction, and was stunned to see her make no expression at all. _"Just how can she remain so calm; so controlling of her emotions?" _He asked himself. _"What is she -- a cold, female robot?"_

"I guess she wasn't careful enough..." Roxanne responded uncaringly. "I know when to be cautious about this." She looked away from him and rolled from side-to-side in her chair childishly.

Nathan couldn't believe what he was hearing. There were still two people to discuss, so he carried on without another word. "Fine, then there are still two more of them to tell you about. Did you ever know a Cody Franks?"

Roxanne had to think of this name for a moment. She knew she heard it once before... "Yes, I've heard of him. I just begun my job when he was working here. Haven't heard of him since--"

"Shortly after interviewing Peter Merkel, aka: Ragdoll, Franks was found dead the next day in his bedroom; his body twisted -- contorted in every way we never thought possible..." Nathan shivered at the thought, for he had seen the photos of the body from another reporter. Roxanne did not seem appalled by these gruesome facts. She just kept that stern expression on her face, as if these small tales didn't even affect her. Nathan didn't understand the woman at all. Doesn't she even care that these people died for a story? He cleared his throat before speaking again, "I know you met Vanessa Stiles..."

Roxanne nodded, "Yes, about three or so years ago; young, but a trampy girl."

Nathan cocked his to the side, as if gesturing to be 'half' agreeing with her. "Yes, I suppose so... Vanessa's first interviewer was the Joker, and that very night, a few of her friends found her dead on her front doorstep! Her death was caused by strangulation and multiple, deep cuts in the throat and wrists; no one's sure what killed her first!" Roxanne merely blinked. "Police _did_ find one lone playing card of a jester next to her corpse, with blood smeared all over it..."

Roxanne snorted, "Why would she be strangled _after_ being cut in the throat, or vise-versa? That just seems idiotic in my opinion."

Nathan's mouth was left agape in shock. "Roxanne, you don't seem to be taking this seriously..." he wondered. "These journalists are _dead_ because they interviewed the bastards at Arkham!"

Roxanne rolled her eyes at him, "The difference between me and them, is that I am not the deceased; I'm still alive, and not about to die soon." Nathan frowned at her for speaking so boldly about herself. "Please quit worrying. Nothing is going to happen to me..."

* * *

"I know you're awake there, _Roxanne Nevers_." A chill ran down Roxanne's spine as she heard this voice speak so close. It's as if she could feel his breath on her. She continued to lie still, and hoped 'whomever' would keep believing her to be unconscious. "Hey!" The scratchy voice hollered at her, "Get up, you dumb broad! We ain't got time for this!" Her eyes shot open, and at first, all seemed blurred. As Roxanne's eyes began to adjust better, the first thing she noticed were a pair of feet close to her head. Groaning with pain, she sat up and clutched a hand to her head just to see how much blood there was. When looking at her hand, there was red fluid, but not as much as she thought. Roxanne gasped ever so quietly when she saw who she was in the presence of. She's seen this man before... A little man, sitting in a wooden, worn chair, was starring down on Roxanne with her image reflecting off his rather small, round glasses. The man cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, as if he was somewhat curious of the woman. 

Roxanne's eyes now peered at what this little man was holding. This is what chilled her to the bone; this _doll_. On the man's left hand, was a ventriloquist doll, which one would use in performances for entertaining children and adults alike. This doll though...was not like others you would see with happy faces and telling jokes to the audience. This peculiar 'thing' is nothing like that. This little man -- Arnold Wesker is his name, and Roxanne knew it to be, for she had tried to do a report on him, but some other journalist beat her to the punch. The doll: Scarface, is what _'he's_' called. She watched as the round, glassy blue eyes of Scarface starred right back at her; almost mocking her. His eyebrows lifted when he saw a trickle of blood running down her head. "Jesus, Rhino, I told you to use that chloroform rag, not do her in! How is the broad gonna do an interview if she's dead?" His glassy eyes shifted angrily to his henchman.

The woman turned so she could see over her shoulder who Scarface was yelling at. "I-I'm sorry, boss, but I forgot," said the man named Rhino. "I-I didn't know what else to do, so I knocked her over the head."

Scarface rolled his eyes at Rhino, "Ugh, never mind, just go and get a chair and some ice for the lady. We have to get this interview started quick before the Bat decides to crash." Roxanne and others watched Rhino disappear into another room...wait, _'room'_? Just where _is _she? Trying as best as she could to focus her eyes, she could easily guess that everyone was in some sort of abandoned warehouse. The floors were all a dirty concrete, the walls made of wood, but deteriorating away and knew such a place probably wouldn't last long. When she looked out the broken windows, she could easily see that they were all not on ground level. _"Oh, what the hell, just how am I going to get out of this?..."_ Roxanne asked herself worriedly. _"And...what's this about an interview?"_

"I...I heard something about an interview," Roxanne barely spoke up. Her throat was in dire need of some liquids.

Scarface turned back to her, "You heard right. I hear around that you're doing interviews with those nut jobs at Arkham." Roxanne nodded slowly. "It makes me wonder why _I_ wasn't on this 'list' of yours..." When he saw her put a hand to her head, he barked out, "Hey, Rhino, where's the ice already?"

Arnold began mumbling a few words quietly to himself. "Mr. Scarface, Sir, Rhino is doing the best he can... We can't rush him, and--"

"Shud-up, dummy!" Scarface snapped at Arnold, spinning his head around to face the trembling ventriloquist. Roxanne watched with slight interest, and fear. "I didn't ask for you to speak!"

Arnold suddenly sat up straight as if in an army line up. "Right. Sorry, Mr. Scarface. Roxanne merely raised an eyebrow; perplexed by this odd behavior between man and doll.

Scarface turned back to Roxanne, "You still didn't answer my question, _lady_: how come I wasn't on your little list to be interviewed? What's wrong, am I not good enough for ya? What do I have to do, turn into a clown -- be a fat penguin freak?"

Roxanne stood up, but just as she did, she stumbled badly in place from feeling so disoriented and dizzy from the blow to the head. Right when she was about to tumble over, Rhino had just come back and caught the falling woman before she would have another concussion. The burly henchman helped her sit down in the chair he placed on the ground; giving her the ice pack as well for her head. Roxanne peered into Scarface's angry eyes. "I...I didn't make the list, my editor did. If you're not on it, then...then I'm sorry," she tried to be apologetic, but her tone sounded a bit dazed and drunken.

"Well, now's your chance to interview me!" Scarface exclaimed. "Mugsy, come here!" Roxanne got a bit startled when the other large henchman, Mugsy was suddenly at her side, holding the briefcase that held all of her notes and such for the previous interviews. He smirked at her before shoving the briefcase into her gut. "Rhino also snagged that briefcase of yours, since I know you need it for those interviews..." Roxanne wide-eyed Scarface with worriment. "Don't worry, we didn't go through it. Like we need to..." Then he dismissed the idea.

Roxanne blinked. "Um...you...you want me to interview you?" She asked quietly, gulping to get her throat lubricated in order to speak better. "Why?"

Did Scarface 'flash' his eyes at her? Just how can a doll be capable of such things? "Didn't you just hear me? What are ya: deaf?" Now Roxanne wondered how that ventriloquist can produce such a voice as Scarface's. "I just want to get a little fame here, is that such a crime?" Roxanne quickly shook her head. "Good, now get your things ready to interview the greatest crime boss in all of Gotham!..." Scarface gestured a hand to himself, "Me!"

Roxanne slowly shook her head as if she couldn't believe this is happening to her. "Bu-but I--" She suddenly froze over when she heard a couple of guns cocking close by. She didn't have to turn to see that Rhino and Mugsy had their pistols right on her head.

Arnold gasped at this, "Mr. Scarface, do we really have to resort to violence?" He asked with worriment. "You told me we weren't going to hurt Ms. Nevers."

"I won't..." Scarface replied coolly, and then his eyes narrowed to hers, "Just as long as she's a good girl and interviews me! Otherwise...what's the point of her livin'?..." Rhino and Mugsy snickered to themselves while Roxanne could feel a couple beads of sweat going down her face. When Scarface saw that the woman was still remaining motionless, he got angry with her again, "What are you waitin' for? Do ya want Rhino and Mugsy to put holes in your frickin' skull?"

Roxanne exhaled in fright, and hurriedly got her mind set on doing this 'interview' with Scarface. It was hard to input the combination and get her things in order, for her hands trembled badly in fear; fear that Rhino and Mugsy are going to kill her for taking so long getting everything ready. _"Just what am I going to ask him?..." _She thought, trying to come up with questions to ask Scarface...and possibly Arnold Wesker as well. _"This-this isn't thought out; it's sudden, and it's life threatening for me -- seriously, just what am I supposed to 'do'?" _Her hands still shook when she finally got out her pen and notepad; ready to start taking down Scarface's or Arnold's words. "Okay...um...I didn't prepare questions, so..." Roxanne groaned slightly; she still felt dizzy from the concussion. _"Will I last, or pass out? Will I die if I don't visit the hospital soon?"_

"So...are ya gonna ask me a question or what?" Scarface asked somewhat eagerly, but then his voice became more menacing. "Or did ya change your mind?..."

Roxanne gasped quietly and eyes snapped shut when she felt the cold steel of the guns on her neck. "Ye-yes, I'm ready," she answered back, her voice quivering. _"Just what am I going to ask? I didn't prepare questions..." _"Um...why do they call you Scarface?" She opened her eyes once more as she finished. As she questioned this, Roxanne could hear Rhino and Mugsy trying to hold in their snickering and snorts of laughter.

One of Scarface's eyebrows shifted up. "Are you -- are you kiddin' me?" He asked, sounding irritable and surprised. "Wha, are you blind or somethin'? They call me 'Scarface' because of the frickin' scar on my _eye_!" The journalist coward slightly as he spoke so meanly while the two henchmen continued to contain their laughter.

"Um...I'm sorry, I just...can't think straight..." Roxanne shook her head a little to try and think up a better question to ask. To be honest, she didn't know what to ask Scarface. "What was your life...before Scarface, _Mr. Wesker_?" She finally questioned the timid ventriloquist.

Scarface's glossy eyes boggled, "What? Why ya askin' _him_ the questions?" He exclaimed. "I'm the crime boss here! You should be askin' _me_ the questions..."

Roxanne twirled her pen nervously. "It-it's just, I think that Mr. Wesker might be more informative than yourself," she stated as calmly as she could. When she finished, she watched as Scarface's eyebrows came down on his eyes to look murderous. Now she wished she took back what she said. _"Oh God, I practically just called that doll stupid." _She bit her lip softly as she waited for Scarface to holler words of anger. It scared her that Rhino and Mugsy already cocked their guns once more, as if they knew what was going to be her fate. A tear rolled down her cheek, and from the other, a small bead of sweat with the mixture and smell of blood.

"Fine, ask the dummy," Scarface finally responded back to the trembling journalist. Roxanne couldn't believe what she heard. She wasn't going to be blown away? Even Rhino and Mugsy couldn't believe their own ears; Rhino actually reached a finger into one of his ears to try and clear it away of any gunk that could distort his hearing. Although, all was fine, and he heard right. Scarface shrugged his shoulders lifelessly...lazily as any doll would, or _could _do. "Wha? What are you waitin' for?" By his tone, he sounded as if he was in some sort of hurry, "Ask the dummy _his_ questions so you can get on to _me_ next!"

Roxanne nodded slightly. "Okay..." She crossed her leg to try and make herself comfortable, but quickly changed her mind since nothing right now made her feel relaxed and safe -- for that matter. "Mr. Wesker, I'll ask again: what was your life like before Scarface?" The woman watched with slight concern as Arnold shook and fidgeted with his hands greatly. She assumed that he's never been interviewed before, or the fact that he was just, plain nervous about the situation and everything else. Roxanne leaned in a bit, "Mr. Wesker...are you alright?..."

Scarface twisted around to face the shaking ventriloquist. "Snap out of it, ya dummy! The lady just asked you a question!" The doll growled softly as he lifted a wooden hand and slapped Arnold across the face. It wasn't much of a slap, being a small doll and all, but it still stung badly.

"Oh...s-sorry Mr. Scarface..." Arnold quietly apologized, rubbing his cheek with his right hand. He looked at Roxanne now, but because of his slight shyness, he averted his eyes from her as best as he could. "My...my life...before Scarface..." Arnold basically repeated Roxanne's words, but decided he wanted to hear it from his own mouth. "I...I was always alone. I never had any friends...well, except for the puppets," he paused to give a quiet, dream-like sigh. "I always love those dolls..." Scarface's eyes kept shifting from Arnold to the journalist. He would never admit it, but he was jealous that she wanted to interview the chubby man rather than himself. "I learned ventriloquism when I was very young; taught myself... Maybe that was why nobody wanted to be my friend..." He slumped forward a bit, with depression of his 'former' life setting in. Now Roxanne felt bad for bringing anything bad back into his head; the same went for Penguin. "Growing up, I was asked to do many stand-ups with my puppets, which led to my show, Cockamamie Conjunction."

Roxanne stopped writing to recall on that particular show. "Yes...I remember it..." she mumbled; more talking to herself rather than Arnold. "The show was about three silly puppets trying to run a train station all on their own -- and-and the 'evil Vulture' would always come along and try to shut it down!" Scarface rolled his eyes to this foolishness. Roxanne's face became solemn, "And...your show...it got canceled--"

"On account that...not many children or adults watched..." Arnold finished, sounding just as sad as she did. "Maybe that's why I-I'm always sad..."

"I'm...I'm sorry..." Roxanne quietly said, even though she didn't have to be sorry.

Scarface grunted with disgust, "You two dummies are babies -- the both of ya: babies! Suck it up and move on, that's what I always tell this dummy!" He slapped Arnold across the head. "Now hurry it up! I'm the one ya should be interviewing..."

Roxanne flipped a page in her notebook and jotted down a few words. "You mention yourself, but not your family." Arnold cocked his head to the side ever so slightly; wondering as to what she was going to ask about it. "What was your family like, Mr. Wesker?" She watched Arnold squirm around in his seat, obviously, the remembrance was not well for him.

"I-I never knew my father; mother said to me that he just left us one day...without a word... I was very young then..." Arnold pushed the fogged up glasses back on his face, and Roxanne could see that he was beginning to cry silently. "And...and my m-mother...she was...murdered in our house..." Roxanne stopped to gape at the man. Arnold was more jittery now, as if he couldn't control his nerves anymore. "M-mother was murdered by...a family as-assassin. Family said they d-didn't like mother...s-so they killed h-her..." Arnold covered his tear-stained face with his only free hand. Now Roxanne felt more terrible, which was odd for her, because she really didn't care much for anyone's feelings except for herself. Scarface scoffed and turned his head away from the people.

"Mr. Wesker..." Roxanne began, her voice quiet and quivering, "I'm...sorry. I...I didn't mean to upset you like this..." Once again, she flipped a page and got her pen ready. "If you don't mind, Mr. Wesker, I thought up some more questions to ask, and don't worry, they are not about your family or--"

"Wait a minute!" Scarface roared, eyeing Roxanne angrily. "The dummy had enough questions already! It's time you start askin' me some!..."

Roxanne bit her lip and knew this wasn't going to be pleasant. "It's just that -- Mr. Wesker here seems to have more 'history'...than yourself, Scarface..." She leaned back when Scarface was growling furiously upon hearing this. It wasn't Scarface's rage that frightened her, it was the fact that Rhino and Mugsy were still on either side of her; having the firearms still grasped in their hands.

"That's it! I had it with this lady and askin' the dummy all the questions!" Scarface looked at both Rhino and Mugsy. "Waste the broad!" Roxanne gasped and bolted up from her chair, but just as she attempted to run, Mugsy got behind her and wrapped his massive arms around her body; preventing her of any movement. _"I want to kick, but my legs won't work!"_ Roxanne cried in her head. She tried to wiggle her way out, but Mugsy's arms were large and held her in place. Rhino smirked as he walked up to her, pointing the gun at her head.

Just like Roxanne, Arnold gasped, but it sounded more feigning. "Mr. Scarface! We can't hurt Ms. Nevers!" He protested worriedly. "Sh-she's a nice woman! We can't do this to her!"

"Shud-up, dummy!" Scarface shot back at Arnold. All the little man could do was take that order silently. Scarface snickered, "She shoulda thought of that when she was interviewing you!" He also snapped at Arnold. The two now gazed back to Roxanne and the henchmen. "Now you'll never know what those wacko's are up to at Arkham!..." He told her evilly.

Roxanne's eyes became wide, "Wha...what do you mean?"

Scarface chuckled, "They're playin' ya for a fool, you dumb broad!" He shrugged in an uncaring way, "Ye -- but what the hell, you're gonna be dead anyways. You wouldn't know what those nut-jobs _really_ want even if you were livin'..."

"What?..." Before she could say anything more, she saw Rhino come close to Roxanne's face and shove the gun right up to the side of her head.

"You ready to know what it feels like to have cold steel shootin' through your head?..." Rhino hissed deathly in her ear. All the woman could do was manage a choke of her words for she was paralyzed in fear...and in shock! As the assailant readied himself to put a hole through her skull, everyone froze over as they heard of glass shattering from above. The startled people -- and doll -- looked up to see Batman and the young Robin come down with the glass. Roxanne rolled her eyes and sighed in relief, _"Thank _God_...someone came to rescue me!" _

"The Bat!" Scarface shrieked, not sounding surprised by Batman or Robin's sudden intrusion. Arnold stood up and backed away a few steps. "Get him!" He barked at his henchmen. Mugsy threw Roxanne to the ground as he and Rhino charged forth to Batman and Robin. The woman quickly crawled over to a faraway corner, as so, she wouldn't get hurt by the oncoming battle.

"Bring it on!" Robin beckoned with his hand, and soon enough, Mugsy was the first to throw a punch at the young boy. Robin dodged it and threw in a few kicks that put Mugsy to the ground in pain. Just as the brute was about to use his gun on the boy, Robin kicked the weapon out of his hands. It skidded across the floor and hit the wall on the other side of the room.

Scarface blinked and looked at his wooden hands, "It's times like these I wish I had a machine gun or somethin'..." He turned and slapped Arnold across the face once more. "Hey, dummy, why don't I have a gun?"

Arnold groaned in pain and replied softly, "B-because, Sir, you never asked for one before..." Scarface growled and shook his head.

While Rhino and Batman were fighting away, Rhino wrapped his arms around Batman and began to crush him. "You're gonna die, batfreak!" Rhino hollered as he kept squeezing the hero tightly to prevent any air flow to the body. Batman grunted in pain, but with his own strength, he managed to break the bond around him and punch Rhino in the face. He growled and started shooting in Batman's direction. Batman and Robin ducked out of the way, while Roxanne herself, had to move elsewhere to avoid the bullets. "Face me like the freak you are!" Rhino bellowed out, continuing to shoot all over the room.

Scarface squawked in terror as a few of the shots barely missed hitting both himself and Arnold. "Watch where ya shootin'!" Scarface yelled. "Idiot!"

Rhino smiled nervously, "Sorry, boss..." Then he rushed over to Batman and elbowed him in the side.

"Batman!" When Robin was about to aid Batman, Mugsy came around again and grabbed the boy by the ankle. Robin quickly used his other foot to kick Mugsy away so he could go and help his friend.

Batman and Robin struggled a bit, but it was no great fight when it came to Scarface's henchmen. Besides that, there really wasn't anything in the rundown room to use as a good weapon. When the two thugs were dealt with, Robin tied them up for the police to take in, while Batman quickly caught up to Arnold before the timid man could get away with his demanding puppet. "You think ya won this time, Bat..." Scarface said menacingly while Batman was also tying him up. "We'll be back...we always come back..." After those words have been said, Batman put Arnold with the rest of the captured goons.

Robin stood proudly next to Batman. "Well, took care of them," he cracked a smile on the edge of his lips. "No problem, huh, Batman?" Robin seemed a bit insulted when Batman wasn't looking at him, but in fact, the Dark Knight was gazing at the cowering Roxanne, who was still in complete shock to have tried and escaped, or to get up and thank her heroes for the rescue. Robin followed Batman's line of sight until he looked at the woman as well. "Oh, her... Yeah, we better go she's alright and...yeah..." Batman nodded, and then the two slowly walked over to her.

Roxanne groaned as she attempted to try and stand up, but it only resulted in falling over. She cried out softly, but Batman caught her in his arms. Being up against his body made her feel rather uncomfortable, so she rudely shoved him away. "Back off, pervert, I had enough 'men' to last me for awhile..." She brushed her clothes as if Batman had residue all over himself.

Robin smirked and crossed his arms, "She's rather 'nice'," he said in a sarcastic manner.

"I don't need your lip either, kid," Roxanne snapped at Robin, which the boy scoffed at her.

Batman tilted his head to the side to get a better view of Roxanne's head, but just as he was about to put a gentle hand to it, the woman immediately backed away. "What are doing?" She asked, shocked by his action.

"Your bleeding from the head; a concussion..." Batman answered calmly in that authoritative voice of his, and he gestured a hand to the side of her head. Her eyes widened upon hearing this. Through all the commotion up until now, she had forgotten about it. Roxanne couldn't believe she forgot being bled from the head. Then again, maybe the effects of having a concussion are taking its toll on her now... Batman now put a hand on Roxanne's shoulder, "I have to get you to a hospital," he told her. "Who knows how long you've been this way."

"Hmph..." Roxanne went past the boys and gathered up her briefcase and other materials of hers that were lying around. "I'll wait until the police take me there, besides that, I still don't trust you."

"Why is that?" Batman asked.

Roxanne had a smug look to her, "When you think about it, Batman, not many people here or anywhere else know much about you..." She walked back over to him and added, "Say...how about I interview you, so the citizens can get to know the real Batman: 'the man behind the mask', so to speak?..."

Batman narrowed his eyes at her, "I've heard about you, Ms. Nevers...and I don't approve of what you're doing." Roxanne put her hands on her hips and continued to stare at him as if being annoyed now. "I know you took up a job of interviewing Arkham Asylum's criminals, but I don't like the looks of it..." He and Robin spun around to face the open windows. "Look what's happened to the others that have attempted this... Look at you... Do you want to end up like the rest; the rest that have died talking to the criminals?"

"I'm not gonna die!" Roxanne shouted at him defensively. "I'm stronger then them; I know that now. If I get into any trouble again, I can handle it myself! I don't always need someone to look after me, you know..."

Batman frowned at her, "Suit yourself... You've been warned, Ms. Nevers, I can't stop you..." He and Robin practically glided to the windows, and swiftly jumped up from them. Roxanne gasped and ran up to the windows, but they were nowhere to be seen.

"Don't ya hate it when they do that?" Scarface asked bitterly. Roxanne turned away to the tied up bad men. "Jumps out a window and then...gone -- without a trace. Annoying..."

Roxanne merely blinked to this; she had nothing left to say.

_A few minutes later, the police arrived on the scene, along with a medical team that examined and suggested I visit the hospital so they could stitch up the wound on my head. Can you believe this? I have to get stitches in my head, because of what those bastards did! I'm assuming that either the police had seen Batman come to this place, or that the 'Dark Knight' himself contacted the authorities. Either way, I have no idea how the police knew we were all here...but, who cares... _

Enough about the police, but before everyone else showed up, Scarface wouldn't tell me or even give any hints at what the those crazies at Arkham might be up to. Well, he did mention that it somehow involves me...and that...they're not going to want me alive once it's all planned out. What does Scarface mean by that? I don't know anything about 'the plan'! How does it involve me? How?

* * *

**Author's Note: **I know this really wasn't much of an 'interview' chapter, but given Roxanne's situation, it would be hard to do an interview with guns at your head and suffering from a concussion (which is why she sounded a bit out of character). Well, just wanted you to know that. 


	4. Mr Freeze

**Chapter Four: Mr. Freeze**

Roxanne woke to the blinding flash of spotlights directing at her. Were they spotlights? The woman couldn't tell; she couldn't open her eyes in fear that the light might burn her pupils! Suddenly, one of the lights was pushed away from her. "Roxanne Nevers..." Roxanne continued to leave her eyes shut as she heard this voice speak out. Whose is it? It sounds vaguely familiar... Is it -- what's his name? ... Mr. Freeze?... She finally squinted and saw that it was indeed Mr. Freeze standing before her.

_What the?... _Roxanne wiggled around and finally realized she's been constrained to a wooden chair of sorts. She gasped. _"No... This can't be happening to me!"_ She began to bounce in her chair and wiggle viciously out of the ropes. All the while, she heard Mr. Freeze...and others laughing at her failed efforts. Wait...there were 'others' with Mr. Freeze?...

"Surprise, Miss Roxi!" Joker squealed in delight as he jumped out in front of her. He backed away and stood next to Mr. Freeze, holding his hands over his wide-lipped mouth to control his psychotic giggling.

"What the hell is going on here?" Roxanne growled, trying to hide the fear within. The villains though, can easily sense she is deeply afraid.

"Why, can't you tell, precious?..." said a third voice as he draped his arms from behind and over her body. Roxanne couldn't see a face, but by the fabric and design of the costume, it must be the Ragdoll that her coworkers had mentioned. Although, she never heard this villain speak before. She gagged as Ragdoll took his bony hand and grabbed her face to make her head tilt back. From her 'upside down' position, she can see Ragdoll's grinning face above. "Well, do you know why you're here?..." When Roxanne still remained silent, he snickered, "You know too much..."

"What?..." Roxanne jerked her face out of Ragdoll's hand and, again, attempted to work her way out of the tight ropes. There still was no use though. "What are you saying 'I know too much'?... I-I don't understand!" She grunted as she felt her wrist being cut slightly from the thick ropes.

An icy chill escaped Mr. Freeze's breath as he took a few steps towards Roxanne. "The game, Nevers. _Our_ game," he stressed, breathing out another chill of air.

Roxanne shook her head slowly. She couldn't believe this. "I...I don't get it. I don't know anything! I swear to you!"

"You are almost to the end of our board game, Ms. Nevers," came a fourth voice, and as the tall, slender figure stepped into the light, the frightened journalist instantly saw this to be the Riddler. "When you get to the end, I'm afraid you won't win. Unfortunately, you will lose..." He smirked at her, which only made Roxanne's eyes widen with fear.

"I...I _still_ don't understand!" Roxanne cried, her eyes darting to the four villains around her.

"We've told you more than enough," Mr. Freeze added. "More than you should know..."

"It's our game -- see!" Joker piped up, jumping in front of Mr. Freeze and Riddler. "_That's_ the game! We tell you...'things', and you try to put it all together in your pea-brain skull!" Joker cackled as he tapped on Roxanne's head.

Roxanne shook her head again and turned her face away to hide the few tears that came along. "I swear, I don't know anything!" Roxanne said, beginning to cry quietly. "Please, just let me go!"

The woman whimpered when Joker came around to the side and placed a razor sharp playing card at her throat. "Let's slice her! Let's _dice_ her!" Joker squealed with glee, sounding like an eager child rather than a grown man.

Roxanne shivered when she felt Ragdoll's hands on either sides of her face. "That does sound like fun..." he said with a slight purr in his tone. "But I prefer to give my victims a 'yoga' lesson they'll _never_ forget..."

Riddler shrugged, leaning on the odd staff he held in his hands. "I'm not usually the one that partakes in 'brutal' violence," he decided to announce. "After all, I am the brains behind the lyrics that confuse my opponents; therefore, I really don't have the will to...kill her..."

_"No..." _"You're...you're going to kill me?!" Roxanne shrieked, trying to shake off Ragdoll's hands, but that only resulted in her neck slicing against Joker's card slightly.

"That's the plan from the beginning," Mr. Freeze answered coolly. "We don't care for your type. Reporters, journalists... You are all _pests_ to us." He flashed his cold eyes at her before he held up his hand. An icy swirl started to form around it. "We will all be better off with you dead."

"No...no, no!..." Roxanne screamed.

"Don't worry, Miss Roxi!" Joker reassured her falsely, chuckling. "We'll make sure your death is _long_ and _painful_... ha ha! HAAAAAAH... HAHAHAHAHAAAAH!!"

A scream of death came forth from Roxanne.

Just as an icy beam came from Mr. Freeze's hands...

Just as Ragdoll started to twist her neck around...

Just as Joker began to cut her throat, and even her wrists...

Roxanne woke up.

The woman shot straight up from her sleep; cold sweat could be seen lingering on her skin, and there even was a wet discoloration on her pillows. Roxanne breathed in and out heavily. As her eyes and mind finally set in the usual surroundings of her belongings around, she calmed down. The woman let out a soft gasp, still panting. She touched the thick, white bandage wrapped around her head. She sniffled...and began to cry quietly to herself.

_I can't believe I overreacted on this. It was only a dream -- no, it was a _nightmare_ -- of the villains finally getting their way and 'doing me in' like they want to. Although, as I said, it was...a nightmare, so who's to say anything will happen to me at all? I can't let things like that get to me. I have to remain professional. I cannot let anyone see the 'fearful child' dwelling inside myself. If I let that show, I will be done for. I know those crazy bastards can easily sense fear in us._

_It's been a few weeks since my incident with Scarface and his men. The doctors that examined my concussion suggested I take some time off and rest. My boss was not too happy about this, but to hell with him! He didn't get a blow to the head by a metal pipe -- or whatever the hell Scarface's man knocked me out with! Ugh! Whatever... But -- hey, I can use the 'interview' and my experience with Scarface in the paper I'll write. The kidnapping thing must boost the chances of citizens picking up the next newspaper!_

_During those weeks, I paid a few visits to Arkham and questioned the doctors and nurses if some certain villains had been acting strangely, or even 'plotting' anything... Unfortunately, they all kept telling me that patient information is strictly confidential; the nurses have shared with me though, that none of the patients had been behaving anything out of their category of 'ordinary'. When they asked me why I wanted to know this, I merely told them it's for...my journalistic purposes -- that's all. I'm just suspicious...especially since Scarface had told me that the crazed villains were up to something... I just wonder if it's true or not though..._

_Well, today...I finally go back to the doctor's so they can reexamine and take off the bandage around my head. After that, I go back to Arkham Asylum and interview the next crazed patient:_

* * *

Roxanne Nevers -- for the third time -- entered the Arkham Asylum doors for the next patient to interview. As she took her first few feet in though, she was immediately stopped by one of the guards. "Ms. Roxanne Nevers, I presume?" He asked in a deep, monotone-like voice.

Roxanne appeared confused, but nodded. "Yes, that's me."

The guard walked on ahead down the halls. "Follow me."

It was no surprise for her now to be escorted. She could understand, given this is a facility that held very insanely, dangerous criminals.

When the guard stopped in front of a door, Roxanne starred at this cell with a puzzled look on her face. "Is this...is this the right cell?" She asked, looking around as if the 'right' one was next to the door in front of her. "I was told I am to be interviewing Mr. Freeze."

The guard nodded. "This is his cell," he opened the door for her to enter.

The woman shivered and gasped as a very cold breeze rushed out to greet her. "You...you want me to interview him in _that_ temperature?" She said, trying hard to keep her words from stuttering.

"Unfortunately for you, yes," the guard replied back, then he handed her a large, thick, tan coat. "Here. It will keep you warm."

She took it rudely from his hands and put it on quickly. "Thanks," she grumbled, and right before she stepped inside, the guard cut ahead of her. "What's wrong now?" She whined sarcastically.

"I have to announce to the patient of your arrival," he told her, his voice still remaining deep.

As the guard went further into the cell, Roxanne noticed Mr. Freeze was not to be seen. Standing outside the door, the woman watched the guard head for another door within the chilly room. The guard lightly knocked on the heavy, metal door and announced to whom ever was on the other side, "Mr. Freeze, the journalist whom the doctor's mentioned, is here to speak with you now."

The guard waited for a reply. Finally, a calm, low voice from the other side answered. "Let her come in..." the voice spoke with an icy whisper, and hearing this made Roxanne shiver.

_"A cell within a cell..." _Roxanne thought on Mr. Freeze's asylum 'room'. _"He's more 'secured' than Joker will ever be."_ She smirked upon thinking further. _"Somehow...I think the clown is jealous of Freeze's placement..." _Then she walked into the first room.

"He's ready for you," the guard said, still standing in front of the door.

A small smile came on Roxanne's face. "And I am ready to interview him in the other room."

The guard shook his head. "I apologize, but that can't happen. In Mr. Freeze's current cell, he must remain at a temperature of thirty-two degrees below. Therefore, unless you want to freeze to death, you have to be outside his cell in order to speak with him." He bent down somewhat to open a small hatch on the door. Roxanne knew instantly this was some small, grated hole for her to talk through. "You will speak to Mr. Freeze through here," he said to her. "There's already a chair for you to sit in..." he then walked out of the room. "I will be stationed outside the rooms, so yell if you need anything. Of course, there is a time limit to this interview. You have approximately twenty minutes to speak with him." He shut the door behind himself, leaving Roxanne alone in the room before Mr. Freeze's.

"Are you ready, Ms. Nevers?" Roxanne turned to the frozen metal door as she heard Mr. Freeze speak to her. "Well?..."

Roxanne sat down in the chair and hurriedly got out her notepad and pen, although she knew this was going to be a rather difficult interview. Even though the room she's in isn't at a temperature of thirty below, but it was still cold for her, so controlling her shaking hands is hard. As long as the writing is still 'readable', it will be fine. "I'm ready now." She finally replied back to Mr. Freeze. "Now, whenever you are ready to answer my--"

"I've been ready for a long time, Ms. Nevers," he spoke somewhat hastily to her, irritable as well.

"Very well... I'll just move this along quickly -- giving the short amount of time I have -- and ask the first question I have for you..." She sighed to herself afterwards. Roxanne wished she had a face to the chilling, almost monotone voice speaking back to her, but knew it was not going to happen. In some way, she felt relieved not to see Mr. Freeze's face. Knowing he wouldn't be in his 'frozen suit' he donned when he was out of Arkham, seeing his actual facial features would probably intimidate her. She's had seen photos of him though; with and without his suit on.

_Of all the infamous Arkham Asylum criminals here, Victor Fries -- aka: Mr. Freeze -- is probably the most 'cold-hearted' villain to ever come across. While others such as Joker and Penguin take pride in torturing the wealthy, the famous, or 'interesting' characters in Gotham, Mr. Freeze does not care for anyone, and will -- well, _freeze_ any person he comes across or gets in his way. How does he immobilize the innocent people? Well, from witnesses, it seems a jet or stream of liquid ice is expelled from the palm of his hands and on instant contact, the human is frozen solid. It surprises police -- when the frozen victim is defrosted -- that the person is still alive from the icy experience._

_His face is usually veiled by layers of jagged ice, so the only visible features that could be seen are his cold, red eyes, and the outline of his head. As for the suit that mysteriously keeps him chilled in negative degrees...no one knows what exactly it is made from, and scientists/researchers would not disclose any information regarding the 'frozen' suit of Mr. Freeze. This still leaves journalists like me perplexed as to how it can keep him living in summer-like temperatures._

"Now then, 'Mr. Freeze', I think the question that is on everyone's minds is that, why do you prefer to steal diamonds and practically nothing else?" Roxanne quickly wrote her own question down and waited patiently for the cold villain to answer.

From the other side of the frozen door, the woman could hear the heavy breathing of Mr. Freeze. "Diamonds are the most valuable rocks to be found," he answered, hissing some constants slightly. "The most precious things worn by humans to make themselves appear wealthy. What king wouldn't want these on their crowns? I steal them to make myself feel like the king for once, and not the two-time criminal...I _used_ to be..."

Roxanne quickly jotted down his words onto her notepad. "Is this the only reason you steal diamonds?"

"..." He didn't answer, but the woman could barely hear the man mumble some odd words from the other side. Did Roxanne hear a woman's name through all that? She didn't want to ask, for she knew Mr. Freeze would most likely deny it, or he just won't answer her.

"Next question..." she announced, leaving her other thoughts behind to move on. "How is your suit made, Mr. Freeze?"

"..." Again, no reply on the topic. Roxanne started to get a bit irritated with his silence.

"I'm sorry if I seem...impatient here, but this interview is at a time limit, and I would like to know why you're not answering some of my questions," Roxanne said, her voice remaining calm as possible.

"... I want to ask _you_ something, Nevers..." Mr. Freeze finally spoke softly.

Roxanne sighed. "Very well, you may ask."

"Why are you doing this?"

Roxanne's lips parted ever so slightly. She knew what was being said to her, but somehow, she didn't quite know as well.

"Why do you care to interview us...'criminals'?..." She kept silent. Thinking. "Well?..."

"I...I'm doing this because it's my job," Roxanne answered back. "I've been told to do this."

If the woman journalist could see Mr. Freeze's face, he would be smirking upon hearing this. "So it's your job to snoop around?..."

"What do you mean?" Roxanne quickly questioned somewhat, sounding defensive.

"Before your...talk with me...and after you had the pleasure of being taken from that hideous doll--"

"You heard about that?" Roxanne sounded surprised to hear that Mr. Freeze knew about her kidnapping done by Scarface.

"Everyone knows, Nevers... Word gets around..." Roxanne heard heavy breathing before Mr. Freeze began speaking again. "Before your interview with me...for the past week, I hear you've been asking people around about us; asking about our behavior..." he chuckled, but it was barely heard from the thick, metal door. "No one here would tell you such information..."

"Yes, but that's not--"

"Why are you asking about us?" Mr. Freeze demanded. "I don't like your kind...that goes snooping around..."

Roxanne narrowed her angry eyes to the door before her and tapped the pen on the edge of her notepad. "As I was about to say, that is none of your business," she told Mr. Freeze sternly. "Now, please, let us get back to the interview, for we've already wasted ten minutes of this--"

"No, Nevers, _you _have wasted your time... I will always be here, but you...will have to leave when your time is up..." Mr. Freeze cracked a smile on the edge of his lips as he heard Roxanne grunt quietly. "So...are you going to ask me another question now...or do you prefer to be angry with me?..." he said coolly.

"I _have_ asked you a question before: what is your suit made from?" Roxanne asked more testily.

"Nevers..." Mr. Freeze barely breathed her name. "Why would I tell you that? Obviously, no one else would tell you, so why ask me? To answer for you: no, I won't tell you about my suit, because that secret is kept by _me_ only... Well...along with those...scientists that built it..."

Roxanne appeared confused. "What scientists? I didn't hear of that. I heard you made the suit."

"... Fine. Believe what you want..." Was all Mr. Freeze had to say about that. This made Roxanne's brows furrow a bit.

"I will move on to the next question then: I have heard that you have become the way you are from being frozen and electrocuted in a container at a cryonics lab. Tell me, how are you even living...or...are you?..."

Mr. Freeze made an odd noise in his throat; sounding amused by this question. "I never actually thought about...that..." it sounded as if he was talking more to himself rather than the woman on the other side. "I guess people can consider me to be...undead at this point. I've been electrocuted...the same instant my blood froze in its veins... I can't even feel that pounding in my chest anymore..." He put a hand to his chest. He forgotten what it was like to have a heart that pumped blood and give off rhythmic beats. Electrocuted. Blood frozen -- still frozen. How is he living now? Mr. Freeze growled under his breath, but it couldn't be heard from Roxanne. He knew this thought was going to linger with him now and he hated that.

"So...you don't know how you're living?..." Roxanne asked through the odd silence that came over Mr. Freeze.

Mr. Freeze shook from his thoughts and replied back, "No...I don't..."

As the cold man started to be lost in his thoughts once more, Roxanne had the urge to ask if he or others were planning something...devious. It was just an urge, but she knew it would be a bad idea; the villains probably would want to kill her if she tried asking. She rolled her eyes as Mr. Freeze stayed silent, but she leaned in from her chair to hear him mumble a few odd words. "..the X-factor..." is that what she heard?

"Pardon?" She asked curiously. "What did you say? 'X-factor'?"

"Is that what I said?..." Mr. Freeze questioned back, he laughed, and it sounded coarse. "I never knew I could say such strange things..."

"Does it mean anything?"

He made another odd noise in his throat. "Hmph... To you, it would mean everything...if you knew what it meant..."

_"You _are_ up to something..." _"What do you mean by that?" For some reason, she sounded quite fearful, and try as she might to hide it, Mr. Freeze could easily sense her fear. "If you villains are supposedly plotting revenge or for whatever reasons, then please, leave me out of it," Roxanne sounded more stern and irritated at this point. "I'm just doing my job as a journalist. That's all, and I don't mean to interfere."

"You think...we're all up to...something? What makes you think that?" Mr. Freeze chuckled. "Even if...we were, It's much too late, Nevers. You were drawn into this as soon as you walked into Arkham. We take pleasure...in hurting others..."

Roxanne shook her head. This whole situation is getting out of hand. She just came to interview the frozen man, that's all. Since when did it turn into...into this? "This interview is going off topic," the woman finally changed the subject, and her manner of speech grew calm and serious once again. "Let us just go back from the previous question, so that I may ask more for you to answer." Mr. Freeze didn't say anything to this, so she began to ask, "Mr. Freeze, regarding the ice you use for weapons from your hands, how--"

There came a light knocking on the cell door to the outside. "Ms. Nevers, your time is up." A guard informed her from the other side of the door. "You must gather your things and leave this cell."

_"What? Already?" _Even though she knew her time is up, Roxanne still peered down to the small wristwatch and examined the time; somehow, hoping that she still had a little time left to ask questions. In the end, as Roxanne stood up and put her things back in her briefcase, she felt as if she hardly got any information on Mr. Freeze. _"He seemed less informative than the Joker..." _she grumbled in her head.

"Goodbye...Nevers..." She heard Mr. Freeze bid to her coolly.

Roxanne exited the cell to the normal temperatures and atmosphere of the asylum itself. As soon as she walked out the door, a few guards were already there in front of her; waiting to escort her out of Arkham. "Here's your coat." She had taken off the large coat and rudely shoved it to one of the guards. "Don't need it anymore..."

The guards didn't speak a word to her, nor did any of them say anything about her sudden rudeness. All they merely did was lead her out of Arkham Asylum safely...just like on the other days she had come.

"No more questions about 'their plans'," Roxanne told herself as she stood outside the asylum complex. "I'm through with that. I don't want to meddle or get myself more into this. I'm just going to finish this...and be the first journalist to ever interview the famous criminals of Gotham!" She smiled to herself as she walked over towards her parked car. "I can't wait until all this gets published!"

* * *

_"...Nevers..." _Mr. Freeze spoke in his mind. _"Just like the others, your time...is about to come to an end... hah hah..."_


End file.
